


Lana Crush

by belmanoir



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/F, Kayfabe Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belmanoir/pseuds/belmanoir
Summary: Lana tries to preserve her alliance with Tamina after letting her get eliminated at Battleground.“I want to make it up to you.” The little snake even pouts.“Oh yeah? How?”Lana sidles closer. She leans in. She flutters her fucking eyelashes. “How do you think?” she asks, all flirty.





	Lana Crush

Lana slips into the locker room while Tamina is unlacing her boots, sidling up as if she didn’t take the first opportunity to do Tamina dirty.

“What do _you_ want?” Tamina’s been waiting all evening in her sweaty gear in case they needed her for something. The show is over, and she wants to shower and go home, not deal with Lana’s shit.

Lana’s eyes narrow for a moment, and then she smiles, that soft seductive smile that appeared out of nowhere in her vignettes and knocked Tamina for a loop. 

Plus, Tamina remembers what it was like first starting out, and how much it meant to know that _someone_ had her back in this dirty game. Rusev sure doesn’t seem to be in Lana’s corner.

“I want to make it up to you.” The little snake even pouts.

“Oh yeah? How?”

Lana sidles closer. She leans in. She flutters her fucking eyelashes. “How do you think?” she asks, all flirty.

Tamina yanks her boot off and slams it on the floor. Lana doesn’t flinch. “I’m not stupid. I saw what happened to Enzo Amore.”

Lana sniffs disdainfully and unhooks the collar on her ugly-ass gear. (On anyone else it would be ugly, anyway. She looks like a sneaker.) She yanks the top free of its boob tape, and there are her tits.

They’re exactly as perfect as you’d think after looking at any one of her five million bikini photoshoots for dotcom—soft, evenly tanned, and heavy enough to fall a little without the support of her gear, deep half-moon shadows underneath. Her nipples are small and pink. "Enzo Amore never saw this."

Tamina crosses her arms. “When Rusev looks me in the eye and tells me he doesn’t have a problem with sharing, then we’ll talk.”

Lana shrugs, breasts going up and down. She pulls out her phone and makes a call. She doesn’t put away her tits first. “Serdtse moje,” she cooes into the phone. “How is my brute doing?”

“What is it, baby?” Rusev asks. “ _Ace Ventura Pet Detective_ is on and I’m about to take my painkillers, so make it quick.”

Lana crooks a finger imperiously. “Come here.” 

Tamina comes. 

“Dusha moja, will you tell Tamina that you do not mind if I give her unimaginable pleasure?”

Tamina looks incredulously at her. She doesn’t seem to think she said anything weird. 

Neither does Rusev. He just looks a little bored. “Whatever.” Lana glares at him. “You have my blessing,” he says with exaggerated patience. “Treat my baby good.”

Lana smiles triumphantly and points at the phone. “There, you see?”

Tamina looks at Rusev’s pixellated little face. “I thought you were the only man that could have her.”

“You’re not a man.” Rusev guffaws like he just said something really funny.

Lana waves this away, rolling her eyes. “My husband is very backwards. I am not that interested in men anyway. They are all pathetic babies. I make exception for Rusev because he is so strong and handsome. Eto ni tak, darling?” She makes a kissy face at him.

He makes it back. “I love you babe.”

“No, I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“No, I love _you_ more.”

After a few rounds of this, Tamina grabs the phone and hangs up. 

Lana pouts and drops the phone in her bag. Then she takes Tamina’s hand and puts it right on her tits. Which are just as soft as they look.

Tamina yanks it back. “Yeah, no. We’re going to my hotel.”

Lana smiles one of those slow, mysterious, come-hither smiles you only see in the movies, or on Nikki Bella taking a selfie. “You don’t like it that people could walk in?”

Tamina doesn’t, but it’s kind of hot that Lana does. “Do you want to shower there or here?”

Lana gives her an assessing look. “I will be ready to go in half an hour.” Tamina doesn’t think she’ll make it, but somehow she speed-showers, reapplies her makeup, and puts her damp hair into a high ponytail. Her street clothes are an inexplicable off-the-shoulder black blouse with ruffled sleeves and ugly patterned leggings. 

Tamina looks down at her own Tapout shit. Well, they’re both wearing leggings, anyway. “What happened to the suits?”

“Dress for success,” Lana says coolly, applying red lipstick with a quick twist of her wrist and dropping the tube in her makeup bag. “Before I dressed for Rusev’s success, now I dress for mine.”

Tamina doesn’t bother asking why success looks like an uncomfortable poofy blouse. She just leads the way to her car and drives. She tries to watch the road and not Lana crossing and uncrossing her legs, playing with her earrings, smelling like nice shampoo, and doing other annoyingly distracting things.

Finally the hotel room door clicks shut behind them. Lana’s hand comes off the handle of her bag and lands right on Tamina’s sternum. “You were so good today,” she murmurs, gazing up into Tamina’s eyes.

Tamina swats her hand away. “We’ll play The Princess And Her Loyal Bodyguard next time if you want. Today you screwed me over, so you’re doing what I say. Take off your clothes.”

Lana gives a world-weary little Russian shrug, complete with pursed lips, and takes off her clothes. She shakes out her still-damp hair over her shoulders—not as dramatic as it would be dry, but damn, tendrils curl over her breasts and that flat muscled stomach. She doesn’t do a sexy pose, just stands there with her bare feet planted and her hands on her hips, stark naked, and waits for the next phase of the negotiation.

Tamina pulls off her shirt and bra. “Suck my tits.”

Lana comes forward with a smile, cupping Tamina’s breasts in her hands. “Mmm, so big and strong—”

“Don’t make a big production. Just do it.”

Lana bends down, sticking her butt out as much as possible, and sucks.

She knows what she’s doing. A massage, teeth, and a couple of hickeys are involved. Tamina tries not to moan too loudly because every time she does, Lana looks obnoxiously smug.

_Adorably smug._

No, Tamina stands by her first word choice. She’s really turned on, though. She strips the rest of the way and sits on the edge of the bed. “Now get me off.”

Lana gets on her knees and does it. “So, do you forgive me?” she asks when Tamina has stopped shaking.

Lana says ‘unimaginable pleasure’ and then thinks she’s off the hook after a few minutes of head? Tamina snorts. “Don’t put your clothes back on. I’m not done with you yet.” She pulls on a T-shirt and panties and calls room service, ordering a salad (dressing on the side) and two burgers (no bun). 

_“Can we get you anything else, ma’am?”_

Tamina hesitates.

Lana widens her eyes, trying to look small and lost and hungry. 

Tamina gives in. “What do you want?”

Lana orders a steak and eats it daintily, cross-legged on the bed with her pussy on full display. In between bites she holds forth about her plans for her and Tamina’s domination of the women’s division. “I think it is stupid there are no tag titles for the women,” she pronounces with a little sneer, braiding her hair some complicated way that’s supposed to look ‘messy’ or ‘casual’ while Tamina finishes her burger. Everything she’s saying is bullshit, but Tamina does wish there were women’s tag titles.

After they’ve both brushed their teeth, Tamina picks Lana up and drops her on the bed. “How wide can you spread your legs?” It’s _very_ wide. She whistles. “Keep ’em like that.” 

She plays with Lana’s perfect breasts for a while. Lana makes obnoxious fake moans until Tamina tells her to shut the fuck up. 

She thinks about kissing Lana, but it doesn’t feel right. This isn’t like that and besides, she’s already got enough red lipstick smeared on her tits and cunt, she doesn’t need it on her face too. Instead she puts a hand down and finds out that Lana is really fucking wet. 

She gets her vibrator out of her suitcase, hiding a smile when Lana’s eyes widen eagerly. Tamina pushes it in, jiggling until it slides in smoothly, leaving just the base is poking out. Lana takes excited little breaths, waiting.

Tamina turns it on. She thinks that moan might be less fake. “Close your legs to hold it in.” She toys with Lana’s body some more, then flips her over. 

Her ass is a little small, but damn, it’s toned. Tamina likes the rope burns and bruises, too. Lana really wants to be a wrestler. “Nice one,” she says, prodding a big black-and-blue mark. 

Lana squirms in protest, but she looks proud. “It is from Becky Lynch’s hideous boot. I think.”

Tamina pulls a belt out of her suitcase, folding the worn black leather in half to make a strap. Lana, who can’t see what she’s doing, wriggles and makes petulant noises like she thinks she’s been forgotten about.

Tamina grins and belts her across the ass.

Lana shrieks in surprised indignation. Tamina waits, watching the red mark rise on her skin, to see if she’ll object. Long moments go by.

Lana’s next noise is small and intrigued. She wiggles her ass in invitation, then does it again to feel the vibrator shift. 

Tamina keeps it pretty tame. Lana’s gear is pretty skimpy, and she doesn’t want to leave any marks that couldn’t pass for rope bruises. Lana seems to really like stripes across the lower back. “You know they provide a massage therapist at the shows,” Tamina says. “You can take advantage of that.”

“This is more fun.” Lana’s prissy little voice is about half there. The other half is hoarse and short of breath. Pretty soon she’s whimpering and trying to grind on the sheets. 

Tamina feels her ass. Nice and warm. Rolling her over, she gives her tits a few mild straps. With each blow, Lana tilts her chin up and sucks in her breath, like her ballet teacher is gonna come rap her across the knuckles if she lets a little thing like sex affect her posture. She hisses when her sensitized ass rubs on the none-too-smooth hotel sheets. 

Her hips come off the bed with a shriek when Tamina snaps the leather right on her pussy. Her mascara is on its way from smeared to running.

Taking pity on her, Tamina pries her legs apart. She has to put her back into it, but Lana’s not trying to fight her. Her muscles have just locked. Tamina fucks her a few times with the vibrator, teasing her clit with her other hand. Just teasing, though. Lana starts to look mournful and wronged, her lower lip pouting and tears leaking out the corners of her eyes. 

“You can leave,” Tamina tells her.

Lana shakes her head quickly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

Lana tenses, breath quickening, and Tamina backs off her clit.

Lana’s hands clench into fists. Turning her head, she hits Tamina right in the eyes with the force of her will. Tamina almost expects her to point at her own cunt. “I want to come.”

Tamina laughs.

Lana’s mouth sets furiously. “ _Now._ ” Darkly, she adds, “peasant.”

“Letting you boss me around didn’t work out so good for me today, did it?”

Lana abruptly remembers she’s got something on the line here. The impatience melts from her face. “I am sorry. I do what you say tonight. I forgot.”

Tamina tugs her braid with the hand that isn’t shoving a vibrator in her pussy. “Damn right.” Lana isn’t coming yet, but Tamina can’t take any more of this, honestly. She pushes Lana’s legs back together and straddles Lana’s face. 

She’s pretty sure she almost smothers Lana when she comes, but when she rolls away, Lana doesn’t say anything nasty. She just gasps for air and shakes. Her makeup is a complete mess. 

“You look like a hooker raccoon.” Tamina giggles when Lana glares at her. 

She’s almost ready to finish this—almost. She plays with Lana’s tits some more—and then a little more—until Lana is full on sobbing. Tamina looks at her. Yeah. This is what she wanted. “Open your legs.”

Lana can’t manage it without using her hands. The vibrator slides right out and lies on the sheets, buzzing. Tamina flicks it to the side and gets in there with her mouth.

Lana scrabbles desperately for a pillow, clutching it to her own face. She makes muffled noises for a couple of minutes and then comes with a shriek, headscissoring Tamina so hard she almost passes out.

They both lie there, lightheaded. 

Lana moves first. Stretching like a cat, she makes her way the sink on wobbly legs. “So, do you forgive me?” The prissy voice is back, just slower and more contented than usual.

Tamina isn’t sure who won tonight. She’s definitely going to want to do this again. She can’t take her eyes off the welts on Lana’s ass or her unraveling braid. And from the way Lana keeps glancing coyly over her shoulder as she washes off her makeup and reapplies it, she knows it.

Tamina shoulders her aside to wash the vibrator in the sink. “I’m taking another shower. Don’t be here when I get out. See you at work.”

Lana shrugs and holds out her hand. “Partners?”

“You want to be partners, you need to pull your weight. You need to have my back.”

Lana nods contritely, muttering something in Russian that Tamina is sure is both insulting and filthy before giving a plastic, hopeful smile.

Tamina hides a smile. “We’ll see.” Digging through her own makeup bag, she sets the massage oil on the counter. “Moisturize your ass before you go. See you Tuesday.”

She’s looking forward to Tuesday, which is a problem. But hey, maybe Lana is too. You never know.


End file.
